


Absinthe and Bourbon

by EdmondJames_Dantes



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 11:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13030284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdmondJames_Dantes/pseuds/EdmondJames_Dantes
Summary: It's hot in Mexico in 1991, and for more than one reason.





	Absinthe and Bourbon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Desertpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desertpoet/gifts).



> Dear Desertpoet,
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy New Year's!
> 
> I very much hope you like this gift, I promise I have worked very hard on it!
> 
> I've tried to hit a couple of your 'likes' (the ending is more hopeful than happy, sorry!), and to avoid your 'dislikes', but I thought you should know that there is a little bit of violence in this fic. Nothing I would consider extreme, and I really think the story would be better read without the spoiler because everyone turns out okay, but if you need to, you are welcome to check the end notes for more information.
> 
> (There is also further information in the end notes if anyone actually likes spoilers.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this! 
> 
> Love,  
> Santa

 

 

 

 

Tony slipped into the bar, pausing just inside the doorway to bask in the slightly cooler air, relishing his escape from the scorching Mexican sun. He pulled off his sunglasses and hung them off his singlet, wishing he hadn't bothered with his button-down shirt. Even wearing it open and with the sleeves rolled up he was still far too hot.

He surveyed the room.

He was on a mission to get laid.

Though it wasn't busy there were several patrons about the place, but Tony dismissed all those sitting or standing together. Still, there were two possibilities for tonight's fun. One man sitting alone at a booth, and another man sitting at the bar.

The first man was eyeing him up, hunger in his gaze, and the second man was ignoring what seemed like the entire world, staring into his tumbler as if it held all the answers.

Tony wavered on the cusp on making a choice: the man who couldn't care less, or the man already, obviously, interested in him? _Nah, too easy_.

He slunk over to the bar, leaning against it and resting his forearms on the surface, and eyed up the man beside him.

White male, late thirties, a high and tight cut on early silver hair, several days' worth of stubble, and dirty, sweaty clothes. The guy would probably clean up nice, but right now he stunk of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. _Charming_ , thought Tony, granting himself disgusted sarcasm in the safety of his own mind.

He second-guessed himself, maybe he should just walk away. But no, the guy’s hands were clean, his t-shirt – though sweaty – was stretched tight across broad shoulders and strong upper arms, and while his jeans were dirty, Tony had to admit that he’d love to peel them off the guy’s nice ass.

Mind made up, Tony smiled warmly, and tapped two fingers on the smooth wooden surface close to the man's glass to catch his attention.

The guy's head jerked up, and Tony's question died before it left his lips, leaving him open-mouthed in surprise. _This just got a lot more complicated._

Stunning ice blue eyes were bloodshot and teary.

Tony swallowed, compassion hitting him like a punch to the guts.

"The fuck do you want, kid?" The guy's grouchiness would probably have been a lot more intimidating if he didn't have to sniff and try to discretely wipe his eyes on his shoulder a second later. Either he was one hell of an actor, or his dog had just died. Or _something_.

Tony smiled gently, this time for real, and said, "I was just wondering if what you're drinking is any good, but I'm guessing it's not if it's making you cry."

The guy stared at him, surprised, then he looked even more surprised as a quiet chuckle escaped his lips. "This shit swill ain't worth the money."

"Then maybe I can buy you something nicer to drink, soldier?" Tony grinned encouragingly.

 

 

 

 

"I just want to forget," said Gibbs, breaking a comfortable lull in their conversation, staring off into nothing. He took another absentminded sip of beer and picked up a spicy potato wedge from their basket of wedges and popped it into his mouth.

Tony hesitated. They'd both had a fair bit to drink, but Tony didn't know how much Gibbs had had before Tony had sat down beside him, or how well the guy could hold his liquor. Gibbs seemed coherent enough, but then there was his emotional state to consider as well. _Would it be wrong to even ask?_

Well, Tony wouldn't push if the answer was no. "You know," said Tony faux-casually, "There's more than one way to forget. At least for one night." He let his eyes travel down Gibbs's body on the barstool beside him, and then back up, lingering over the groin area, even though he couldn't really see it from this angle, and he definitely appreciated Gibbs's chest and broad shoulders, until finally he met Gibbs's eyes again, smirking.

Gibbs's mouth fell open, just a little bit. Tony grinned, amused at the innocent reaction, and decided to tease him, letting the tip of his tongue out to wet his lips. Gibbs eyes flicked down to follow the movement and he abruptly jerked back and turned away, only to sneak a look at Tony a moment later, his cheeks blazing.

"Are you-" said Gibbs, before stopping himself. He glanced toward the bartender, but she was busy talking with another customer - the other guy Tony had been considering earlier - down the opposite end of the bar. Gibbs looked around the room and Tony followed his gaze as he checked to see if anyone was paying any attention to them, but no-one was. Everyone was preoccupied with their own lives, and Tony and Gibbs might as well have had their own little world at this end of the bar.

When Tony looked back to Gibbs, Gibbs was looking back at him. Gibbs leaned in and murmured, "Are you hitting on me?"

Tony eyed him warily. Gibbs didn't seem angry or upset. "Only if that might be something that would interest you."

Gibbs stared and his eyes turned dark, the pupils blowing out wide in an instant, and he gave a toothy little grin that was somehow surprised at its own existence. "Maybe," said Gibbs roughly.

Tony grinned back. "You wanna get out of here?"

Gibbs stood up, but he was shaking his head. "I gotta hit the head," said Gibbs, which explained nothing.

"What?" asked Tony, confused. Was this some kind of code for closeted marines?

"Oh, right, civilian. Means use the bathroom," said Gibbs, stretching his arms over his head, his entire body arching, and Tony was riveted by the little sliver of skin that was bared by the shirt riding up. Gibbs brought his arms back down, completely oblivious to the butterflies fluttering in Tony's own belly.

"Right," said Tony, jolting out of his lust and looking away, frowning. Had he offended Gibbs with his come-on? Was this an excuse to leave, was Gibbs going to slip out the back door?

"Hey," said Gibbs, and Tony's head whipped around. There were two callused fingertips lightly resting on his own fingers, and his eyes snapped to Gibbs's face.

Gibbs was biting his lip. "You're gonna be here when I get back from the head, right?" he said hopefully, the pads of his fingers rubbing gently against Tony's knuckles.

"Yeah," said Tony, a little mesmerised - and as much so by the act, as the sensation. He'd been casual with his hands and physical attention all night, both in trying to give comfort and to hint that he was interested in more than just conversation, but this was the first time Gibbs had actually reached out to him in return.

"I'll wait for you," promised Tony, and the last of Gibbs's hesitation left his eyes.

"Good," said Gibbs, and strode off to the bathroom, a spring in his step. Tony grinned to himself, amused at how easy it was to make people happy, and feeling as if he himself would be bouncing with excitement if he were to get up off his barstool.

 

 

 

  
Gibbs was taking so long in the bathroom that Tony had begun wondering if he should go investigate and make sure the guy hadn't fallen into a toilet or something, when the man who'd been checking him out earlier came over and stole Gibbs's barstool.

"Hey pretty boy, are you a mirror, 'cause I could see myself inside of you!" said the barstool thief, winking at him. He was wearing a slim blue suit and smiling warmly. Unfortunately for Barstool Thief, Tony had a lot to prove at only 23 years old; he wasn't a fan of people who reduced him to a boy. Gibbs, being an emotional wreck at the time he'd called Tony a kid, had been allowed a reprieve.

"That line ever actually work for you?" asked Tony with vague amusement, judging the pushy attitude and already having a good guess as to how this was going to play out.

The Barstool Thief grinned at him. "You're talking to me, aren't you?"

Tony smiled wryly at the predictable answer. "Only to tell you to get your ass off that stool."

"Aw, c'mon, don't be like that! That old guy's probably passed out on the bathroom floor from drinking too much!" Barstool Thief held out his hand, "Look, I'm Cameron, Cameron Burke, and you are?"

Tony shook his head and ignored the extended hand. "Not interested."

Burke's smile dimmed, but he mustered on, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Interesting."

Tony looked away, he wasn't foolish enough to try correcting the man and walk straight into the verbal trap of _'Oh, so you are interested!'_ Fortunately, movement at the bathroom door caught Tony's eye. Gibbs.

Gibbs had exited the bathroom, finally, and was watching him, looking unsure. His gaze darted to the Barstool Thief and back to Tony.

Tony tilted his head at Burke, rolling his eyes, and he smiled sheepishly at Gibbs, trying to convey that the stranger wasn't sitting on Gibbs's barstool at his invitation.

Gibbs nodded in understanding, but then fury erupted on his face. He strode forward, steeled eyes fixed on Burke, and Tony looked back at the still yapping guy in confusion, but then Gibbs was there, shoving Barstool Thief off the stool.

"What the fuck, dude?" spluttered Burke, sprawled haphazardly on the ground.

"That's a damn good question, _dude_ ," mocked Gibbs, but he was baring teeth in sheer rage. "What the fuck did you just put in his drink!"

Tony went still, a cold shiver trickling down his spine. " _What?_ "

Gibbs spared him a glance. "This asshole just put something in your glass while you were looking at me."

"The hell I did!" shouted Burke, scrambling to his feet, red with anger or embarrassment, or guilt - Tony couldn't tell for certain. "How dare you!"

Tony inspected his glass as it was sitting on the bar, but the bourbon didn't look any different. He looked between the two angry faces, and each man turned to him with an earnest expression.

Tony looked to Gibbs. He didn't think Gibbs would lie about something like this, not even drunk and wanting to get laid. Besides, _in vino veritas_.

"Let's just get out of here," said Tony to Gibbs, standing up and pushing his drink away.

Gibbs nodded, and there was no smug triumph on his face, only relief. Tony had made the right choice.

"I didn't put anything in your drink, man!" said Burke, irritated and scowling. "Why the fuck would you believe some old drunk guy who's jealous that I had taken his seat? Hell, why would you even want to fuck him?"

"I'm only thirty-nine!" Gibbs glared at the guy, a nerve struck. "I'm not old! And given that I just threw up everything I've had to drink today, I'd say I'm not drunk either, asshole!"

"So that's why you were taking so long in the bathroom," cut in Tony with an amused grin. "Well, I'm not kissing you until after you've brushed your teeth and gargled some mouthwash." He winked at Gibbs, but he'd had enough of the by-play, and wanted to get the hell out of there.

Gibbs blinked at him, and gave a small grin. "Some mouthwash would be really good right now. But kissing later sounds good too."

"C'mon," Tony tilted his head to the door. "Let's get out of this place."

He started walking to the door, confidant that Gibbs would follow, but Burke grabbed his arm as he tried to pass the guy.

"Look, you're not going with that dick, alright?" said Burke, smiling. "Stop playing hard to get, pretty boy, you've already got my attention."

Tony cocked his head, and let a slow, easy-going smile tug at his lips. Burke's grip relaxed slightly on his arm and Tony grabbed one of his fingers, twisting it and bending it back until Burke’s knees hit the floor.

Burke hissed in pain and anger.

"Call me 'pretty boy' or touch me again and next time I'll break it," said Tony pleasantly, and continued on his way to the door.

 

 

 

  
Tony gripped Gibbs's ass, pulling down as his hips pushed up, rubbing their dicks together hard and trying to get enough friction in the mess of pre-cum that Gibbs was leaking all over their bellies.

Gibbs groaned and buried his face into Tony's neck, pressing kisses into his skin. "Yeah, just like that, Tony."

"I'm close, Gibbs," murmured Tony, a wild grin stretching his lips, and his hips rocking on instinct now. "You with me?"

Gibbs nodded and blindly kissed along Tony's jaw to his lips. "I'm right behind you, Tony," breathed out Gibbs just above Tony's mouth.

"Just need a little bit more," grit out Tony, breathing through his mouth.

Gibbs slid one large hand in-between them and squeezed his cock, his thumb rubbing around the head in just the right way, and Tony squeezed his eyes shut and cried out as he came, his balls tightening, his dick pulsing.

Holding Tony's dick in place, Gibbs rubbed his own against it, harder and harder, until he groaned deeply, his body slowing to a still on top of Tony's as his cock throbbed and he followed Tony over the edge.

Tony sighed, his heart pounding in the sudden quiet, but his breathing began to even out.

Then Gibbs collapsed on top of him.

"Oof!" grunted out Tony.

"Sorry," muttered Gibbs, and slowly shifted until he was resting on the mattress, but curled around Tony, an arm around his waist, hand lightly pressing against Tony's ribs.

Tony stared at the ceiling, grinning tiredly. "That was good, Gibbs." He ran his hand soothingly up and down Gibbs's spine.

Gibbs smiled against Tony's chest, and his fingers drew little circles onto Tony's skin. "Yeah," he said softly. "You sure you have to go start your new job tomorrow?"

Tony winced, a twinge of guilt tugging his heartstrings. "I wish the circumstances were different."

"You know, you never told me what your new job is," said Gibbs, yawning at the end.

"If I told you I'd have to kill you," murmured Tony, only teasing, but Gibbs was already asleep, his nose digging into Tony's armpit.

Tony looked at Gibbs's peaceful face for a long moment, then laid back his head, closing his eyes and following him into sleep.

 

 

 

  
Tony woke up in the pitch dark to a cloth over his mouth and nose, cutting off his air. It smelt like chemical sweetness.

For half a second he panicked, and then his Statesman agent training kicked in. He grabbed one of the fingers and yanked it back as hard as he could, breaking it, and a pained yell shattered the night's silence.

The hand retreated, and Tony swiped the cloth off his face and desperately sucked in air.

On the other side of the bed, the bedside lamp was clicked on. Tony looked to the light. Gibbs, wide-eyed and confused, his hand still on the light-switch. Not his attacker.

Tony snapped his eyes to his side of the bed.

Burke was standing there. Cameron Burke, the Barstool Thief. He was clutching his hand, at the finger Tony had broken.

"What the hell, Burke," said Tony hoarsely, confused, because who the hell would take rejection so badly that they'd follow the object of their affection all the way to a hotel room shared with someone else?

Burke grimaced. "Fuck," he said succinctly.

Gibbs roared, and launched himself at Burke. Burke stumbled back, abject _terror_ on his face at being attacked by a naked marine, and then he was tackled to the floor.

Tony rolled to the side of the bed and peered over it, watching them fight and wondering whether or not he should step in and give Gibbs a hand, but the marine had everything under control. 

Not even twenty seconds later Gibbs had Burke in an inescapable hold, face down on the carpet.

"Who the fuck are you and what do you want with Tony?" snarled Gibbs, digging his knee harder into the man's lower spine.

"I'm not telling you shit!" snarled Burke right back.

Gibbs grabbed Burke by the hair, lifted his head up and shoved his face into the carpet.

"Still not telling!" shouted Burke, spitting blood, his lip split. He laughed, sounding genuinely amused, and not the slightest bit hysterical. Burke looked up at Tony. "You know," he said conversationally, "Champagne told me that you'd be a hard one to crack, but I think I would have asked him for hazard pay if I'd known you were gonna use a fully trained marine as a shield!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" said Gibbs, glaring down at Burke, but Burke kept his eyes on Tony.

"Oh fuck!" said Tony, horror dawning on him. "This is the test, isn't it? I thought it was what they'd told me, but _this_ is the damned _test!_ "

Burke laughed again. He wasn't even struggling to get out of Gibbs's hold.

"Tony?" said Gibbs, looking at him in confusion. "You know what this asshole's talking about?"

Tony bit his lip. "I don't know him, but if he's telling the truth, then he works for my future boss and my future boss is either betraying me and trying to kill me, or he's testing me on something, I don't even know _what_ this time!"

Gibbs stared at him. "What the fuck kind of boss sends a guy to flirt with you and then try to kill you?"

Tony scrubbed his face with his hands. "The classified kind of boss that I can't tell you about."

"Good boy," praised Burke.

"Shut the fuck up, asshole!" snapped Tony. "I'm not believing a word out of your mouth 'til I've talked with Champagne!"

Burke sniffed disdainfully and shrugged as much as he could in Gibbs's hold.

"There's a phone at reception, downstairs," offered Gibbs, looking a mess of emotions but mostly angry - and yet he was still trying to help. He hadn't just got up and walked out. Honestly, Tony couldn't believe how well he was handling this.

Unless Gibbs was part of this test.

Tony eyed him warily, but there seemed to be nothing insincere in Gibbs's blue eyes.

"I don't need the landline," said Tony quietly. He got off the bed and rummaged around in his clothes on the floor until he found his little Statesman-issued radio and switched it on. "And Gibbs? I meant it when I said I wished we'd met under different circumstances."

Gibbs frowned at him for the cryptic words, but just as he opened his mouth to ask, the radio buzzed and Tony sighed in relief as Agent Tequila's voice came in loud and clear across the line.

"Why the fuck is nothing ever easy with you, Candidate DiNozzo?" drawled Agent Tequila, and Tony could just picture his mentor's slow grin as he talked.

"You know I love a challenge, Tequila, where's the fun in easy?" said Tony, well aware that Gibbs was watching him like a hawk even as he kept a firm grip on Burke.

Tequila snorted. "There's a challenge, kid, and then there's sleeping with the wrong target, you bonehead!"

Tony spluttered. "You told me to sleep with a man, I assumed the choice of which man was mine!”

"I told you we should have given him more details!" said Agent Whiskey through the radio, interrupting Tequila's retort.

"We sent DiNozzo all the way to Mexico, to a tiny, run-down bar where the only other man who speaks fluent English should have been our guy! Agent Ginger is handsome, he's forward, he practically exudes a 'come fuck me' vibe! DiNozzo shouldn't have needed any more details!" said Tequila, sounding completely exasperated.

"Hey!" yelled Burke - or Agent Ginger - "I do not exude a 'come fuck me' vibe!"

Gibbs snorted.

"Oh hush, Ginger," cut in Champagne on the radio, talking over everyone. _Well, at least that confirms Burke's identity._

Tony straightened up, never mind that the agents couldn't see him. "Director Champagne, sir." Finally, some answers.

"I imagine you have some questions, lad?"

"Have I failed this test, sir? Am I still in the running to become a Statesman agent?" asked Tony. He might get in trouble for saying that phrase in front of Gibbs, but chances were that some Statesman agent would give Gibbs a stiff drink laced with their amnesia-inducing serum anyway. Tony wasn't sure if he wanted it to be him or not.

"Well, that depends now, son. Tell me why you chose this - Leroy Jethro Gibbs, is it? - to take to your hotel room instead of the agent we had wanted you to choose. The file Tequila's given me shows that Gibbs is good-looking enough, if you like the rough sort, but I'd hoped you weren't the sort to think with _only_ your little head." Champagne didn't sound angry, but Tony didn't know if his smooth Southern drawl was hiding anything.

"Burke, I mean, Agent Ginger, seemed a little eager," said Tony cautiously.

"So?" asked Champagne.

Tony darted a little apologetic glance to Gibbs, now aware, and very conscious, of the fact that Gibbs was just an ordinary guy who'd gotten caught up in this mess.

Gibbs frowned back at him in confusion.

Tony let out a long breath, and looked away from Gibbs, unable to keep meeting his eyes. "Agent Tequila told me that for this test, I was to seduce and have sex with a man to prove how far I was willing to go for Statesman. I assumed that he would make it more challenging than a guy who was looking at me like he wanted to drag me to the bathroom as soon as I walked into the bar. I figured Tequila would give me someone a little more difficult to persuade. Someone more like the soldier sitting at the bar ignoring everyone."

Champagne laughed. "Well, Tequila, I'm gonna land this mess squarely at your feet. Candidate DiNozzo, we will organize another test to replace this bungled one. For now, let Agent Ginger go free, he won't cause you anymore trouble tonight, and report in tomorrow morning. We'll have transport home sorted out for you by then. And yes, son, you're still in the running to be a Statesman agent."

Tony sighed in relief. "Thank you, sir." He looked to Gibbs, but the man's face was completely unreadable. He had let go of Agent Ginger and both men were standing, Gibbs still and focused but with a blank face, and Ginger fidgeting with his bleeding lip.

Tony swallowed hard. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. "Director Champagne? What do you want me to do about Gibbs? He's heard this entire conversation," he said hesitantly.

"Hmm," said Champagne. "Well, with a bit of luck you're going to be the next Agent Absinthe, so you tell me, Candidate DiNozzo, what do you think we should do about Gibbs?"

Tony bit his lip, wondering. He raised an eyebrow at Gibbs, and waited.

For a long, long moment, Tony worried that in telling the truth he'd spoiled everything, and then Gibbs quirked an eyebrow back.

"I won't tell anyone anything," said Gibbs seriously. "If that's what you're worried about. I know the meaning of classified."

"And can we take him at his word, Candidate DiNozzo?" questioned Champagne on the radio.

Tony smiled slowly, thinking over everything he’d learned of Gibbs from their conversation and from Gibbs’s actions.

"I was hoping we could take him for more than that,” said Tony. “Gibbs is a fully trained marine sniper, he's fought in two wars, he's clever and quick to react, and he's looking for a new career. Something busy and difficult to take his mind off his sorrow. I understand that there are two agent positions up for grabs, Director? Absinthe and Bourbon?"

Gibbs's eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open just a little.

"You're not even an agent yet and you're already positing a candidate of your own?" Champagne chuckled.

"You're not thinking with your little head, are you, Tony?" interrupted Tequila, both teasing and worried.

"No sir, I'm thinking with my big brains that Gibbs would make a damn good agent," said Tony firmly. "Director, that is my professional opinion as Tequila's Candidate for the position of Agent Absinthe."

"Tequila you little shit, why the hell do you keep recommending troublemakers as your candidates? Alright, Absinthe, if you're still sure of Leroy Gibbs come morning, and the man is actually interested in working for us after this mess, then you can bring him in with you and we'll see what the man's got."

"Yes sir, thank you, Director Champagne," said Tony respectfully, trying to hold back his grin.

"How many times do I gotta tell you to call me 'Champ', son?"

"Night, Champ!" called Agent Ginger.

"You're still there, Ginger?" said Tequila, sounding like he wanted to head-slap the man. "Get out of their damn hotel room, you bonehead! Unless you want to watch them kiss and make up?" 

Gibbs laughed, looking surprised at his own amusement. His eyes met Tony's, and Gibbs said, "No thanks, we'll be kicking him out. Tony and I need to have a very long discussion for which we don’t need spectators."

Tony swallowed hard, he wasn't sure if that was promising or not. But then again, Gibbs hadn't picked up his clothes and left, he hadn't sounded angry, just exhausted with everything. The lack of anger made Tony hope against hope that maybe, just maybe, if he explained everything to Gibbs, then afterwards they might still be able to make something good out of this mess.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> First, violence: someone tries to spike Tony's drink, Tony ends up twisting their finger; someone tries to knock Tony out with a cloth of chloroform and Tony breaks their finger and Gibbs tackles them to the ground none-too-gently, and then Gibbs deliberately hurts them, splits their lip on the carpet, as a rough means of interrogation. Honestly, this sounds bad, typing this up now, but I promise everyone will be okay, please trust me and read it anyway.
> 
> Second, spoiler: this is a Kingsman crossover! Or, more specifically, a Statesman crossover, with Statesman being the American counterpart to Kingsman. No real knowledge of the movie(s) should be necessary, I think it stand well enough on its own. Btw, I've used the titles used in the Kingsman 2 movie (and invented a couple), however, with the exception of Agent Ginger who is a man in this, it's up to the reader whether it's the same actors/characters or not. You might know that the titles get passed on when the character dies, but if you want to pretend that I've played with the Kingsman/Statesman timeline, that's cool too.
> 
> If there's any tags that you think I should add that don't compromise the plot, please feel free to let me know.
> 
> Love,  
> Santa


End file.
